


Turning Point

by Caryn_B



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, Ignores Sequel Trilogy, M/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 00:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20349190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caryn_B/pseuds/Caryn_B
Summary: Han considers the pivotal moments in his life, but Luke has ideas of his own





	Turning Point

**Author's Note:**

> Another WIP finished thanks to the WIP Big Bang :). Started several years ago, and takes no account of the Sequel Trilogy. There may be the tiniest references to stuff that is now Legends. Hobbie (who is only mentioned briefly here) is always alive in my universe, don't care what the ST says...

Drifting in and out of consciousness, neither asleep nor awake, and cocooned in that protective, unthreatening state, Han Solo dismissed the demands of his comlink as the remnants of a dream. Its persistence gradually gained the upper hand. With a stifled groan he fought his way free of the entangling sheet. Eyes screwed shut, he groped around by the side of the bed for the offending device.

"Yeah?" If the time he'd taken to answer hadn't given away his current condition, the barely awake gruffness of his voice certainly would.

Chewbacca's indignation spiked into Han's ear, and he laid the comlink on the pillow beside him, turning his head a fraction to talk into it. "What's the time?" 

Even by the Wookiee's standards it wasn't late, but Han had promised him an early start – something about the afterburners in the sublight engines if he remembered correctly. Han didn't recall specifying a time, whatever Chewie insisted to the contrary, and it was still dark. 

He rolled onto his side, burrowing back under the sheet, not even bothering to turn off his comlink. Dimly, he could hear Chewbacca's growls, their volume and irritation levels increasing in exponential increments. Han closed his eyes, but even though he succeeded in blocking out Chewie's ire, he couldn't return to the calm of moments before. Too many thoughts intruded. One in particular chased away all possibility of further sleep and was startling enough to drag him to a sitting position in the bed. The fact was, that since waking up yesterday morning, everything had changed.

Han peered around the room, still in semi-darkness, as though seeking confirmation. Superficially it looked unaltered, but because he had also changed, everything he saw was like looking through a filtered lens, which deepened shadows and subdued all color. Even the just-before-dawn chill had a little more bite, and the quiet a greater heaviness about it. It was as if a source of light, a subtle but ever-present mainstay in his life, had been extinguished. His comlink had fallen silent, but Han knew better than to suspect Chewbacca of giving up. He gave it fifteen minutes before his friend arrived at Han's room, all bristling fur and exasperation.

He leaned back against the wall behind the bed and pulled the sheet up around his shoulders, studying the stillness.

Han wasn't used to viewing life through its pivotal moments. His past was more a series of accidents and mishaps than flashes of enlightenment, and he didn't believe in fate and destiny. But recent years had seen him entangled in incidents that dealt larger-than-average blows to his habitual cynicism. Put together, he was forced to admit that those incidents had turned his life around, and last night they'd converged into something he'd never anticipated. A notion of a future that had promised, for the first time, a clear and unequivocal direction.

To the Han of the past, the future had been some distant and largely irrelevant smudge on the horizon. Irrelevant not because he hadn't seen himself as part of it, but because existing in the present had been too full of pitfalls, trauma and short-term consequences to leave time for contemplating anything else. Ever since he could remember, he'd lived a day-to-day existence, either running towards an opportunity or running from the latest threat to his life and liberty. Even those ostensibly forward-thinking moves, such as joining the Imperial Navy (which others might've used as a springboard towards a more stable and profitable future) had been undertaken on impulse. It hadn't been the lure of recruitment drives, with their promises of valor and glory, that caused Han to trade his freedom for the faceless regulations of the Carida Academy, but an urgent need for anonymity. 

Once he'd been assimilated into the Imperial machine, Han had discovered that his skills in some areas were sufficient to cover his irreverent approach to authority. But in the end, even his double set of bloodstripes hadn't been enough to cushion him from the backlash to insubordination that had catapulted him, together with an irascible Wookiee and a life debt, back into the melee of the galactic underworld. And back to running.

Maybe that experience should've changed him. Maybe it should've made him reflect on previous poor decisions and dead-end life choices, and given him a chance to start anew with a bunch of freshly acquired convictions and purpose. For sure, it had made him hate the Empire, but in a life already filled with enemies and reasons to hide, it had made little difference. It was just something else to add to the list of things to avoid.

In many ways it was typical that the first of the events Han was now classifying as life-changing had taken place in a murky cantina on the lawless edge of the galaxy, because it meant he hadn't recognized it for what it was. There was no helpful bolt of lightning. It had seemed no different from any other day – a chance meeting and an opportunity to make some easy money. Dodging Imperial ships was run-of-the-mill for Han, but fully-fledged Star Destroyers on his tail had been a new scenario. With hindsight, Han might've taken that to be a sign of something, but he hadn't believed in signs, and he'd needed the promised 17,000 credits more than he'd needed insight into the foolhardy promptings of his subconscious mind.

From that moment on, everything had been different, even if it'd seemed superficially the same. It was all still running, dodging blaster bolts and trying to exist to see another sunrise, but all the time Han had thought he'd been running away from trouble, he'd been edging ever closer to its heart. It explained why he hadn't been light years away, the familiar trappings of another sleazy bar surrounding him, finding out second-hand the fate of a rebel base on Yavin IV. And why he hadn't been standing before Jabba without a care in the galaxy, paying off his debt and his death sentence with a crate of credits plucked from the remnants of Alderaanian wealth. And why he hadn't abandoned their Echo Base hellhole in favor of a much warmer resort planet that might've cushioned his wait for the inevitable with some well-earned luxury. The inevitable had happened anyway, as it was wont to do, and he'd ended up gracing the Hutt palace wall with his fixed, stony expression. 

The evidence had been there, if Han had stopped to look. He'd been so intent on getting ready to leave, that every excuse he'd found to stay sidestepped the glaring truth at the core of his indecision. But even worse than ignorance was outright denial, and Han hadn't been the only one not to emerge from that unscathed. But even though their attempt at a deeper relationship had been another sort of denial, both he and Leia had failed to recognize that at the time. And yes, he'd loved her. Still did. And she'd loved him. Still did. But not in the way they'd tried to push it. 

He'd heard it said that you only get to realize how much you have until you lose it. Han couldn't claim to have lost something he'd never had to begin with, but finding out where he stood had caused that bright, glowing future to disappear the moment he'd glimpsed it. The discovery wouldn't change the way he lived, but Han knew that it'd changed _him_. 

And now, as Han stood in front of the 'fresher mirror, a semi-placated Wookiee dispatched on ahead to the Falcon, and the rosy tendrils from yet another sunrise curling their way through the slats in the window shutter, he wondered if it showed in his face. He looked as he always did first thing in the morning. The same shadow of rough stubble and the same rumpled locks of hair. The same gaze stared back at him, and if he was slightly more bleary-eyed than usual the previous night spent celebrating Wedge's recovery was explanation enough for that. He certainly wouldn't be alone in looking a little worse-for-wear this morning. Rogue Squadron were officially off duty today, and no bad thing. He doubted he'd see any of them before midday.

Han wondered if Wedge might view his own near-fatal experience as a life-changing moment. Most would – even those who'd spent their entire lives dodging the very same thing. It was one thing to dance with death, but to have your nearest and dearest lining up to say goodbye was something else. But Wedge had a long list of precarious moments to his name, and Han hadn't detected anything out-of-the-ordinary in his friend's behavior.

Maybe that was the problem. Living with danger and risking their lives on a daily basis was normal, and perhaps they'd all become immune to blows of such magnitude. Maybe it would take another type of issue entirely to throw any of them off course. An issue such as the one Han had blundered into last night. 

If his friends were forced to choose, Han wondered which of the many events in his life they'd pick as the most disorienting. They'd probably go for the months spent locked in carbonite because they'd seen it first-hand. Or maybe they'd choose something from his past. The loss of his family? His expulsion from the Imperial Navy? His hooking up with Chewbacca? Or would they go for something different, like his break-up with Leia? They'd all be wrong. Whilst those things had molded him and shaped his approach to life, they'd built on something that'd already existed within him. They'd saddened him, strengthened him, hardened his resolve, edged his anger, perfected his flying skills and toughened his shield of cynicism. But they hadn't made him lose his way. 

That honor belonged to the events of last night. Undoubtedly fueled by too many celebratory drinks and an atmosphere of relief and triumph, he'd allowed all the years of loose endings to come together in that glimpse of a potential future. He'd hauled his trusting friend out of his seat and tugged him into the sobering freshness of the night air, where he'd tried to share his thoughts. And that's when his newly-envisioned future had vanished. It had disappeared between the space of a hesitation and the blunt bewilderment in Luke Skywalker's eyes. 

So there it was. In a lifetime of ducking trouble, defying the odds and emerging intact, Han's sense of self had been flung aside by the simplest of things. He'd made a misguided approach to the person least expecting it and received the rejection he should've anticipated. And those few seconds had changed Han in ways too deep-set to unravel.

He'd had his share of rejection in the past, and he'd taken it all in his stride. His had been a lifestyle intent on avoiding commitment, and he hadn't felt the need to regret any missed opportunities. But those encounters belonged to a former Han – one he barely recognized these days. He'd unknowingly cast aside that attitude the moment an argumentative farmboy and his equally unlikely companions had bought themselves a ride on his ship.

He reached for his shaver, considering the truth of that other adage. That being denied something just made you want it more. This morning was testament to that. He could feel it inside him, like the smoldering residue of a formerly fierce fire, and far from being able to extinguish it, it was all Han could do to stop it from flaring up, bright and burning and unstoppable. He had a suspicion that the next few days were going to put all his skills at deflection to the test.

****

The Dokk'lin cantina was sort of unique. It was probably the only dive in the whole town where the patrons didn't need eyes in the back of their heads. Metaphorically speaking that is – because some of them did, of course, have actual eyes in the backs of their heads. Han always thought they had an unfair advantage when it came to watching their backs, but he supposed he hadn't done badly so far, using just instinct and finely-honed reflexes. 

He had no need of either here, because the Dokk'lin had been requisitioned by the Alliance, for the sole use of its off-duty recruits. Not that the paid muscle guarding the door would necessarily keep all trouble out, if it was determined to get in – but anyone intent on causing problems would have their work cut out for them. The place was always full of armed-to-the-teeth (or fangs) patrons.

This afternoon was no exception, but it was slightly less crowded than usual. Yesterday's late-night revelry had felled a larger than average number of regulars. Wedge was alone in the Rogues' customary corner, and even though a few pilots from other squadrons had purloined stools from around the table, they drew the line at encroaching on the Rogues' unofficial territory.

Wedge looked robustly healthy, which may have been due to his stint in bacta, or could equally have been down to the med-droid imposed restriction on his alcohol intake the night before. A tall glass stood on the table before him, an inch or so of golden liquid resting at the bottom. Han gestured to the glass and then towards the bar, earning a grin and a thumbs up from Wedge.

Han turned to the bartender. "Get me a glass of roqfruit juice and a mug of local ale, would ya." _On second thoughts..._ "No, make that two glasses of juice." 

Han plonked the glasses down, letting Wedge's bemused stare glance off him. After all, he'd changed, hadn't he? People were just going to have to get used to it.

"What are you drinking?"

"I kinda thought you might've worked that out. Seein' as it's identical to the stuff you've got."

Wedge grinned, undeterred. "Ha, ha. _Why_ are you drinking it? Don't tell me you're feeling delicate today!"

"Not even close. Last night was kids' stuff!"

"Try telling that to my flight squad."

Han snorted. "We'd better hope we don't have a full-scale emergency today. I wouldn't trust any of 'em to know one end of a fighter from the other right now."

"Too true," Wedge agreed. He used his glass to gesture across to the arched entranceway. "Luke looks okay though."

Han put his drink down carefully, thinking that if he succeeded in that then he could succeed in anything else. He could treat it as another of those pivotal moments. The moment he learned to cope with the changes he'd wrought on himself with just a few minutes of sheer thoughtlessness.

Wedge was making some complicated gesture across the room to Luke, and Luke was making one back. Han guessed it was something to do with their drinks, because a moment later Luke had turned his back on them to order at the bar. 

"You okay?" Wedge asked. His face wore such a genuine frown of concern that Han was tempted for a moment to explain. But if anyone needed to know first, it was Chewie, and Han had kept an uncharacteristic silence in front of his friend. Chewbacca had known something was up on sight, but somehow, he'd held back from hassling Han for an explanation. It made Han wonder if Chewie had noticed he'd changed too, and if so, he'd been wondering how best to deal with him.

"Sure," Han nodded. "'S just...." he tailed off, thrown for a moment by the site of Luke's face in profile, caught in conversation with a blue squadron pilot who Han vaguely recognized. Luke was smiling, and although it wasn't a full-on Luke smile, it was close enough. Close to the kind of smile Han had hoped to receive last night, instead of the look of incomprehension he'd been given instead. He swallowed his discomposure in his reclaimed glass, and when he resurfaced, Luke had disappeared and Wedge was saying nothing.

Han let his breath out in a sigh. Damage limitation had gone out of the window, but he'd told himself he was moving on, and that's what he'd do. "When d'you go back on duty?" he asked. 

Wedge's reply was too quick to come – that he was helping Han plaster over the cracks was glaring in its obviousness, but Han was nevertheless grateful for his show of silence.

"Another couple of days or so. Got the 2-1Bs lining up to check me out first."

"You're a medical miracle! I don't think they've ever had to untangle someone's internal organs like that."

"Heh – I'm just glad they managed it! Kinda throws you, when they decide you've only got two hours left to live."

"Tell me about it. But y'know, you've got a lifetime of Janson's guts jokes ahead of you now. Sure it was worth it?"

"Ask me again in a week's time," Wedge replied.

Han grinned and downed the rest of his roqfruit juice. "Guess I'd better head back to the Falcon. Upsettin' Chewie twice in one day ain't gonna do much for–"

"Han. Wedge."

The voice was quiet, right by his ear, and Han had never even seen him coming. By some stroke of a good fortune that rarely graced Han's side, Wedge was there to cover his uncertainty.

"Luke!" Out of his seat in a flash, Wedge enfolded Luke in a hug that said it all. How Luke's intervention had been central in getting Wedge to safety, and that last night, in the crush and exuberance of well-wishers and delight, Wedge had never found the chance to speak to him properly. Not that there had been a need to thank him. It was just what Luke did. It was what _all _of them did. 

"It's great to see you looking so well," Luke said. He slid down into a seat on the far side of Wedge. 

"It's great to _feel_ so well," Wedge returned. "Which is more than I can say for the rest of the gang."

"Losers, the whole lot of 'em," Han grunted. Just like him, he acknowledged silently, only he'd lost something far more valuable than a reputation for holding his drink.

Han felt, rather than saw, Luke glance at him, presumably taking in his changed appearance, the uncharacteristic roqfruit juice and his averted gaze. Because he couldn't look fully at Luke yet. Doing so would be like ripping off the protective scab on a too-fresh wound. And Luke never missed anything, apart from things that were too far-fetched to be believable. Like Han's declaration from last night. He hadn't seen that one coming. To be fair, neither had Han. It'd dragged him into the night air, along with an initially amused Luke, and ambushed him before he'd had a chance to think.

"You can tell 'em that to their faces," Wedge said, his focus once more on the entrance.

Han's gaze followed the direction of Wedge's scrutiny. The remaining members of the Alliance's much vaunted and brilliant flying squadron were shuffling in through the doorway, several pairs of eyes squinting groggily across to their usual corner. Mostly unshaven, some still dressed in the clothes they'd clearly fallen asleep in, they forsook the bar and made slow, lumbering progress across the room.

"Afternoon, boss," Hobbie grunted. It looked to Han that Hobbie was the only one capable of actual speech, because the others only managed a pained grunt or a half-heartedly raised hand.

Wedge shook his head, his lips quirking with barely restrained laughter. "You should've stayed in bed – the sight of you lot's gonna send me back to the bacta tank."

"Oh, I dunno," Han said, airily. "All this energy 'n enthusiasm's givin' me an appetite. Anyone fancy a plate of fried sap fungus? I could get the server droid to bring some over."

The jibe had been worth it, and not just for the sudden green-tinged pallor in Wes Janson's face. It had made Luke laugh, with the quiet, appreciative humor that had bonded them together in the past. It had a similar effect now, and Han caught Luke's eyes for a moment, just like old times. And then he remembered that he'd changed everything, and confusion came crashing back. It was time to leave.

He pushed back from the table, hauling himself up at the same time. "Well, this has been fun 'n all, but some of us have got work to do. I'll leave you bunch of lightweights to think about the error of your ways."

A storm (or a flutter, more like, given their delicate states) of denial greeted his remark, although Wes was too busy holding his head in his hands to respond.

"See you later," Han said, to no-one in particular, but flung a grin at Wedge, which was partly a thank you for everything unsaid. Wedge's returning smile, tinged with subtle sympathy, was partly an acknowledgement.

The sunlight outside was too strong, and Han held up his hand to shield his eyes because, despite all his wisecracking, he wasn't quite at his best. When he lowered it, Luke was standing in his way.

"Can I talk to you?" 

"Go right ahead," Han said, moving deftly past Luke and heading out towards the Alliance's makeshift hangar. "s' long as you walk while you talk. Gotta get back to the Falcon or Chewie's gonna be spittin' furballs."

"I meant talk to you properly," Luke said, falling into step beside Han. His tone was mild, but Han knew better than to disregard the stubbornness that rode beneath it.

"What for?" There was no point pretending not to know what Luke meant, and no point trying to dodge the issue. "You said everything last night."

"I didn't really say _anything_ last night. You did all the talking."

Han stopped in his tracks, and Luke, now one stride ahead of him, halted and turned to face him. And Han nearly lost all his resolve, and his self-made promise to move on. Luke, backed by sunlight, eyes flashing with some indeterminable emotion, was almost too much to take, and a still-too-painful reminder of what might have been.

Han shielded his eyes again – and not just from the sun – and took a breath. "Okay. _I_ talked. _You_ reacted. That was enough."

Luke shook his head. "You can't just brush it aside like that."

"I'm not brushin' it aside, but what's the point of going over it all again?"

"You were drinking roqfruit juice."

"What?"

"Just now, in the Dokk'lin."

Han skirted around Luke for a second time, aimed his feet in the direction of the Falcon, because he needed a refuge and he needed a distraction. "So? Thought I'd keep Wedge company."

Luke had started walking with him again, and Han was damned if he knew why it seemed like _he_ had to make the effort to keep pace with Luke.

"That's not why, and I think you know that."

"You want me to admit I'm feelin' rough? Okay, I'll admit it if it helps."

"That's not the reason either."

Han shrugged. "It's what you accused me of last night." 

"I didn't accuse you of anything, and you're trying to fit everything round what you thought I was saying." There was exasperation in Luke's voice, and Han knew it was justified. Because Han had no grounds to feel defensive about anything. After all, he _had _been drinking and he'd been happy enough to admit that last night, and happy enough to own up to it now. Everyone other than Wedge had been drinking last night, including Luke.

"Well what d'you want me to admit then?" Han said. "Because we both know you were just tryin' to find a way of sayin' what you'd already said."

"I hadn't said anything!"

"That ain't the point. You didn't need to. I saw it in your eyes." They'd reached the hanger now, and the throng of pilots heading in and out of the gaping bay was making conversation difficult. Han sidestepped a group of grimy, overall-clad mechanics going off duty, before belatedly noticing that Luke had stopped in the middle of the crowd and was just standing there, watching him, as pilots dexterously wove their way around him.

Han hesitated, torn in two by his conflicting desires. To lose himself for the rest of the day, nursing his wounds in private, or to let Luke in on his secret. That he was no way close to the semi-belligerent, don't-give-a-damn type persona that he'd projected since leaving the cantina. 

But then, that probably wasn't a secret to Luke anyway, just like there was no real conflict for Han. He found himself walking back to Luke, because he'd never been able to resist going back to him. Seemed like some things, after all, hadn't changed. 

"Okay, I'm sorry," he said. "Probably seems like I'm gettin' at you. Put it down to too much roqfruit juice or something."

"What do you mean, you saw it in my eyes?" Luke asked. He sounded genuinely puzzled.

"Just, kinda... like you were–" Han dodged out of the way of a trundling equipment carrier, its driver throwing him a casual thumbs-up. 

"Like I was _what_?" Luke persisted.

A group of Sullustan pilots wove their chattering way between him and Luke, cutting off Han's view of Luke for several seconds. They were immediately followed by the screeching, meandering progress of a badly-oiled load lifter that seemed determined to mow Han down. He stood his ground, arms folded, but far from being intimidated, the cumbersome droid looked ever more resolute in sticking to its route. Han stepped aside at the very last moment, his irritation melting away in an instant at the sight of Luke's warm amusement.

"This is hopeless," he mouthed, because the load lifter was still within ear-splitting distance. He glanced to the side, spotting a couple of underused storage alcoves against the far wall of the hangar. Gesturing to Luke, he worked his way through the crush to the relative calm of one of the alcoves, Luke hard on his heels.

"Like I was what?" Luke repeated, the smile from moments ago still there in his eyes, like a beacon of light in the gloom of Han's mood. He'd already bared his soul last night, so Han didn't think anything he could say now would harm the affection Luke clearly held for him. Plus, the blunter he was, the sooner he could get this agonizing conversation over with, and then he could start to work on getting on with his life. Rebuilding it from the bottom up, so to speak. 

"Like you were in shock," Han said.

"Of course I wasn't in shock!" Luke sounded more than a little exasperated by Han's obvious exaggeration.

"Sure... okay, bad choice of word. I meant, it was like you didn't understand how I could be thinkin' the things I was thinkin' – they were just too... unreal." Han scrubbed at his face, feeling a patch of rough stubble just below his left cheekbone where he'd missed with the shaver. "And you hesitated. That kinda said it all."

Confusion flashed again in Luke's eyes. "I _hesitated_? Of course I hesitated! What did you expect?"

"I didn't know what to expect. I didn't exactly think it through," Han admitted. "But your meaning was clear enough!"

"What meaning? Because I took more than two seconds to process what you'd said?" The perplexity was still there in Luke's voice.

"Because you're you, and you ain't gonna come right out and say something you think might hurt my feelings. So you needed the time to think of a nicer way of sayin' it."

Luke shook his head. "Han, I hesitated because you were talking about... about a future, that I didn't think–

Luke's words vanished into the tooth-jarring squeal of Han's favorite load lifter, angling its way into the corner of the alcove. Han stared at it in disbelief, wondering if it had powered up this morning with the sole intention of following him around and harassing him. 

"What's your problem?" He yelled, gesturing with a hand towards the hangar. "You've got the whole bay to work in!"

The load lifter flashed a sequence of lights at Han but otherwise ignored him, and Han caught Luke's laughter out of the corner of his eye.

"This is ridiculous!" He grabbed Luke's elbow and pulled him further into the alcove. At least the load lifter had stopped moving around, and was occupying itself restacking crates against the wall. "It'll probably decide it needs to move those crates back here," he muttered.

Luke didn't reply, and Han fell silent, letting the afterglow of Luke's laughter settle around him, comforting, familiar and safe. The opposite of the twist of tension inside him that had started up at Luke's request to talk. 

"Did you hear what I said?" Luke asked, and the impatience behind his words implied he'd just asked the question moments before.

"Ain't that easy, with that thing lumbering around! I guess you were trying to tell me something in that convoluted way of yours, so we can end up exactly the same as we were last night?"

"But we're _not_ the same as we were last night!" 

Luke's eyes were holding Han's, a message of some sort, but Han didn't need to dwell on that. He was already aware of just how much he'd changed things between them – his whole morning had been spent reconciling himself to exactly that.

"D'you really think you know how I feel about it?" Luke asked, into Han's lack of a response.

Han rubbed at his face again, the errant patch of stubble rasping beneath his palm. "Like I said, you made it clear enough at the time. But if it helps you to explain it all again, feel free. I dunno why– oh for f–!" The rest of Han's expletive disappeared into the clattering, clanging sound of the load lifter losing hold of its pile of crates. Han stepped back quickly as an escaped stash of heavy-duty convertor coils rolled across the alcove floor. They came to rest, rocking gently backwards and forwards, exactly where Han had been standing. The coils were followed by a random scatter of other items, including power lead clips, end caps and thruster wiring boxes.

He looked round and spotted Luke edging around a haphazard pile of what looked like roller bearings for a power turbine. "I'm gettin' outta here," he announced to Luke, "before me and my new-found friend have a serious falling out." 

As an excuse to leave, it'd been handed to him on a plate. There seemed little point in rehashing the entire conversation (one-sided though it may have been) from last night, because Luke presumably wanted to make amends in some way or other. Han stepped carefully through the chaos, addressing the loader droid directly. "Been nice knowin' you 'n all, but I've gotta dash." 

Luke's next words cut off his exit and had him turning around, resignation already etched there for all to see.

"Hang on Han, this'll take some sorting out!" Luke gestured to the chaos surrounding them.

"Why are you tellin' _me_? Ain't my job to do it!"

"It'll take the load lifter all day to do it by itself – it's not designed to do stuff like this."

"It'll take _us_ all day! And _I'm_ not designed to do stuff like this!"

"It's half an hour at the most. Less if you stop glaring at the droid."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd start thinking it'd done this deliberately, just to make my day even worse than it already is."

"It's probably having a worse day than you so far."

"Yeah, well if it's worrying it might get deactivated, I'd say it had good grounds," Han muttered.

They both glanced at the load lifter, which stood, largely oblivious of the situation and the conversation, waiting for its next order. 

"It's just a few stray engine parts," Luke replied.

"More like a few _hundred_. And it couldn't just spill one type of thing could it? It had to spill a million different things, then mix 'em all up just for good measure."

"It looks worse than it is."

"No, it's much worse than it looks, believe me!"

"Okay," Luke said, his tone suspiciously mild. "Then the sooner I get started the sooner I can finish it." 

Han watched as Luke grabbed hold of a couple of the upended crates and placed them right side up. The load lifter moved up close, a rhythmic sequence of lights flashing something indeterminable.

"It's okay," Luke told it. "Just wait there."

Han folded his arms and watched, with a mixture of frustration and impending self-sacrifice, as Luke began what promised to be a never-ending task of collecting, sorting and boxing the spilt spare parts. He shook his head, spared a thought for the type of afternoon he might've had, and crouched down to help.

Although to be fair, he probably hindered more than he helped, at least at first. Partly that was down to Han being unable to throw off his cantankerous mood of earlier, and partly it was down to the fact that Luke just plain distracted him, simply by existing. Either way, Han's frustration with himself translated into a show of irritation at everything and everyone around him. Even Luke's extreme levels of patience were starting to wear a bit thin, but largely with Han, rather than the task in hand.

"Wait, that's a repulsor coil, not a convertor coil!"

"I know what it is!" Han growled.

"So put it in the right box then!"

"That droid's lucky I'm puttin' anything in _any_ box!"

"Well no-one's gonna thank you if they have to re-sort all the boxes from scratch!"

"I don't _want_ any thanks. All I _want_ is to get back to the Falcon and have a nice quiet afternoon!"

"With Chewie biting your ear off for being late..."

"Okay, a quiet_ish_ afternoon."

"I never said anything about you _having_ to stay here and help."

"You might not've said anything, but you gave me a look."

"Next you'll be telling me you saw it in my eyes!"

"I _did_ see it in your eyes."

"So every time I don't say anything to you, you'll decide I'm thinking it anyway because you've seen it in my eyes?"

"Sounds about right to me," Han muttered. He held an unidentifiable part up to the light, squinting at it from all angles. "I suppose you know what this is, too..."

Luke studied it. "Looks like a center bolt from a turbo-fan. Maybe for one of those new air speeders?"

Han tossed it into an as yet unoccupied crate with a gesture that held as much disgust as it did vexation. "No-one's flown any of those yet, but you already know all their engine parts!"

"I don't know _any_ of their engine parts! I'm just guessing. Lots of engines have turbo-fans."

"I know that!" Han picked up another, and then another, of the purported turbo-fan bolts and threw them into the correct crate. "Beats me why we need to have so many of the stupid things. They're just askin' for 'em all to break down, buying in all these spares."

"They'll break down anyway," Luke pointed out. "Everything always does."

"Much more of this and I'll be joining them."

Luke put down the power lead he'd just picked up. "Don't you think you're making too big a deal of this? You wanted to go back to the Falcon, so why don't you just do it? Get on with whatever it is that has Chewie all riled up."

"Who said I wanted to go back to the Falcon?"

"You did, about one minute ago, then five minutes before that, then a previous five minutes before that. Want me to go on?"

"Don't bother, I get the picture." Han leaned forward and hauled an assorted mix of springs and rods towards him, picking one item at random and studying it carefully. "I've changed my mind." 

It wasn't so much that he'd changed his mind – more that the two minds he'd been in had now merged into one. And that single mind wanted to stay. Han could probably count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he'd genuinely wanted to get away from Luke. Last night had been one of them, and back there in the Dokk'lin had been another. The rest of the time – heck, felt like it'd been the whole of his life – he'd take being with Luke over just about anything else. Even when it entailed mindless sorting of spare parts because Luke couldn't resist doing a favor for a hapless droid. 

"Good," Luke said. He picked up the abandoned power lead and tossed it casually into the furthest away crate. "What about afterwards?"

"You mean when we've finished this?"

"Yeah."

"I dunno. Depends..." Han turned his head to look out across the hangar, the stray thought entering his head that maybe there was another alcove full of similar chaos that Luke had set his sights on.

"Don't worry, we're not gonna be stuck here all day," Luke said, and Han could hear the smile in his voice. He wondered, not for the first time, when it was that he'd become so easily readable to Luke. Probably the day they'd met. Seemed like that day, Luke had seen through every front Han had tried to project and had simply reached inside to something Han hadn't even realized was there, and attached himself to it. The only thing Luke had failed to read was how deeply that attachment had affected Han.

"I'm heading out to the old quarry," Luke continued. "Thought you might like to come along."

Han swallowed his surprise, because he certainly hadn't been expecting that. "It's roped off ain't it? No-one's checked the place out yet." He threw a sideways glance at Luke. "'xcept you of course."

"It's not dangerous if you stick to the right places."

"Which you know all about I s'ppose?"

"I went there a couple of days ago. There's an easy way down."

"Why doesn't that fill me with reassurance?" Han muttered.

"Should I take that as a yes?"

Of course, it was a yes. It had always been a yes. But still... "Why are we going there?"

"I'll tell you when we get there," Luke said. 

There was a note of relief in Luke's voice that struck Han as slightly odd. Surely Luke hadn't doubted that Han would agree to go. Or maybe he thought Han was still intent on avoidance. That held true, to an extent, although it'd helped that they'd seemingly moved beyond the awkward rehashing of last night's one-sided conversation. Arguing over the identification of obscure bits of engines was reassuring and safe, and Han felt he'd regained a small part of his old self. Enough to make it possible for him to embark on a foolhardy escapade down a crumbling quarry wall.

"If we fall 200 feet onto jagged rocks below, I'm leavin' you to explain it all to Leia," Han remarked.

Luke laughed. "It's a 50-foot drop at most. And I told you there's an easy way down."

"Fallin' seems like an easy way down to me."

"Yes, and so's being pushed!"

"Don't tempt me," Han replied, grinning at the ease with which they did this. If only all conversations could flow so effortlessly. And if only he'd stayed last night within the same comfort zone of easy friendship and unthreatening banter, instead of lurching recklessly into the wilds of indiscretion. Luke may well have fallen silent for now on the things Han had said, but it was a situation guaranteed not to last.

****

One hour later, with a set of crates safely stowed in their designated storage spot and a slightly nonplussed but still under-oiled load lifter left behind to create whatever new chaos it chose, Han kept pace with Luke en route to the disused quarry.

The oval-shaped fissure in the landscape was the result of decades of open-cast mining, its depths once laid bare to the elements as its natural seam of bluestone chert was plundered, layer by layer. Years of abandonment had filled its deepest hollows with cold, still waters, and its broad ledges and flattened base with earth and rocks washed in from above. Shrubs, wiry grasses and a multitude of flowers had taken over these expanses of soil, turning the once barren, scoured rock into a burgeoning oasis of green. Shallow by Imperial standards – excavated as it was by workers with no access to the brutal might of mechanized Imperial stone breakers – the quarry was still deep enough and wide enough to make it largely inaccessible. Set just within the confines of the Alliance base's perimeter, yet too distant to be of immediate use, the quarry had been provisionally closed off, discouraging anyone curious enough to investigate from getting too close to the crumbling edge.

It went without saying, Han thought, that the fluorescent warning tapes had failed to discourage Luke from exploring. If anything, they'd have acted as a magnet, drawing Luke in to investigate the hazards beyond. What Luke had discovered wasn't technically a path in Han's opinion, but a slightly less steep run of near-lethal scree. It was made traversable – just – by outgrowths of shrubs, which provided token anchorages for feet. Han made it down in one piece, rolling his eyes at Luke who had taken half the time and half the effort to get to the bottom.

"Well?" Luke asked him.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Han looked askance at Luke. "Well what? Am I glad I'm still alive?"

"We've been to more inaccessible places," Luke pointed out.

"Sure, but we always managed to get out. We might be stuck in this one permanently."

"I don't think we'll have serious problems."

"Easy for you to say. Gettin' back out's not gonna be as easy as gettin' down."

Luke didn't bother to answer that one, instead just waving a hand vaguely at their surroundings, a quiet smile on his face. "I was asking you what you think of the place."

Han shook his head and glanced around. Intending no more than a casual acknowledgement that he'd managed to survive the scree slope in order to study a few more rocks, he stilled instead. Then slowly, he circled around and focused, studying the quarry from a new perspective. Because it was – though he was loathe to admit it – quite beautiful, in that unique way that only abandoned places recaptured by nature could manage. It had an aura of tranquility. Seclusion, without the overtones of loneliness. Privacy, without a sense of isolation. The high rocky walls afforded shelter without feeling oppressive, and the quarry was wide enough to allow plenty of light and sunshine to reach its floor. It was also very quiet, despite its proximity to the busy and noisy Alliance base. But it wasn't silent. Beneath the barely perceptible rustling of whatever small creatures had made their home in the fissure, there was the clear sound of flowing water. Han strode forwards on instinct, skirting the odd tumbled boulder, searching out the source of the sound, aware that Luke was following him.

He rounded a pebbly outcrop alive with patches of creeping greenery and thorny yellow flowers to find a large, hewn platform of rock, just over a meter above the lowest floor level of the quarry. Han hoisted himself onto the surface and surveyed his surroundings. The broad ledge was bordered on one side by a smooth stretch of quarry wall, which some distance above curved inwards, forming a protective shield against falling rocks and debris from above. On the surface of the ledge, Han could see traces of the channels the quarriers had originally used to excavate the rock, but these were shallow and worn smooth by the passage of work boots and machinery. The sound of running water was more distinct here, and walking to the far side of the ledge, Han spotted the reason for that. Low level blasting had exposed an underground spring, which welled up just behind the rock platform and disappeared into a water-worn channel in a jagged section of the quarry wall. Bright sunlight struck the edges of the sinkhole, glinting off the cascading water and causing dark spots to dance in front of Han's eyes and – inexplicably – childhood memories of Corellia to flare up in his mind. Sparkling water and a sense of the future about to unfold–

"It's perfect, isn't it?"

The question took Han by surprise, momentarily lost as he was in memories that he rarely revisited. He blinked a couple of times, clearing his vision. "Sure..." He had no idea what Luke was referring to, but the way Luke was looking at him suggested an underlying significance to his words. "It's got its plus points." He grinned suddenly, aware of just how big an understatement he'd produced.

Luke smiled back at him. "It was worth the climb down then?"

"Better than some places you've dragged me to in the past." Han glanced upwards, his eyes travelling along the craggy outline of the quarry rim, before turning his focus back on Luke. "It kinda reminds me of when I was a kid on Corellia. I used to skive off work and explore the canyons behind the factories. It was a different world in there. Just the river 'n the cliffs – no-one tellin' you what to do every minute of the day."

"It's funny, but it reminds me of my childhood too, for the same kind of reasons," Luke replied. "Uncle Owen never liked me going off anywhere unattended, unless I was checking the vaporators along the ridge." Luke's smile was quiet, his memories clearly bittersweet. "Of course, any opportunity I got, I went off exploring."

"That figures," Han murmured. "Though I dunno what you could've found to explore in a desert full of sand."

"But it wasn't just sand, was it? There was Anchorhead for a start. Seemed like a huge metropolis to me back then, though it was tiny compared to Mos Eisley."

"Hopefully not such a cut-throat dump though."

Luke laughed. "No-one ever bothered going there, apart from those who lived in the area. It didn't get much opportunity to see any action!"

"That ain't always a bad thing," Han pointed out.

"I didn't see things that way then. I always wanted something to happen." Luke gave a small grimace, his next works charged with regret. "I guess I got my wish."

"Hey, you never wished for any of the bad stuff to happen. You can't start feelin' guilty for things every kid wants outta life."

"No, you're right." Luke gave a small shake of his head, as though to dispel the slight aura of sadness that had crept into his demeanor. He glanced around, seemingly reacquainting himself with his present-day surroundings. "Anyway, it's not Anchorhead this reminds me of, but the canyons and rockways in the Jundland Wastes. There was no water there of course, and they never really felt safe."

"Tuskens?" Han asked.

Luke nodded. "Though I think that was part of the attraction for me. It was a challenge. Defy Uncle Owen and hopefully get out of there alive."

"That also figures," Han muttered. He ran his hand through his hair with a degree of agitation, because however much he loved to hear any small detail from Luke's past, reliving memories was not what had brought Luke here today, and definitely not what had prompted him to ask Han along. "Okay... so this place reminds us both of stuff from the past, some of it good, n' some of it not so good. But we both know how to deal with that kinda stuff by now, and we ain't here to swap stories. So why_ are _we here?"

Luke held Han's gaze, his expression unreadable. "I wanted to tell you about my plans."

A prickle of unease made Han's reply more hesitant that he'd intended. "And we had to come here for that?"

"Yeah. Because otherwise you wouldn't see the potential."

"The potential for what?"

"Building."

"Building?" Han frowned, taken aback. He imagined all manner of heavy machinery and people moving back into the quarry. A sanctuary once again levelled and stripped bare of everything that had painstakingly made itself at home here. It was hard to imagine a suggestion less characteristic of Luke.

Seeing Han's consternation, Luke stepped a little closer. "Don't worry, I'm not talking about anything major. Just one small structure, that's all. Something unobtrusive, that'll blend in with the surroundings." 

"What kinda structure? You're thinkin' we should start quarrying again?" Han couldn't keep the bewilderment out of his voice, because of all the things he'd expected Luke might say, this seemed the most outlandish. 

"No." There was a trace of amusement in Luke's voice, but to Han he looked uncertain, as though he was going to suggest something even more extreme than further quarrying. "I'm talking about building a home."

If Han had been perplexed before, he was utterly confounded now. "A home?" It crossed Han's mind that all his latest contributions to their conversation had been a constant stream of questions, but Luke wasn't leaving him much choice. It wasn't as though the answers were in any way obvious. "D'you mean for you? You wanna live here?"

Luke shrugged. "Yes. Some of the time. If the Alliance will let me. I had a quick word with Mon Mothma the other day, and she doesn't think they'll have any use for this place. She'll need to clear it with General Madine, but she thinks it'll be fine. And this way I can have the best of both worlds."

Han stared at him, observing how easily Luke fitted into the environment around him. And how understandable it was that Luke needed such a place. It was a haven. A respite from all the chaos, the trauma, and the death-defying choices Luke had lived through during the last years and would probably continue to do so. But other than seclusion, the abandoned quarry offered something else. It was teeming with life, in an understated, barely visible way that only those who stopped and listened could ever fully appreciate. And Luke had more than one way of listening.

"Is this to do with the Force?" Han's tone was careful, his wish to avoid appearing confrontational warring with his need to understand. Because if Luke chose to isolate himself from the rest of the base in order to commune with the Force, then where would that leave Han? But then again, if Luke removed himself from his everyday proximity to Han, if might end up helping Han to move on. Ever since Luke had intercepted him outside the Dokk'lin cantina, Han had found his resolution to accept the changes he'd forced on them both increasingly difficult to keep hold of. This way might just provide a convenient solution.

Luke smiled at him. "In some ways, yes." He wandered across to the edge of the rock ledge to gaze outwards, his eyes on the far reaches of the quarry. "Yoda told me I needed to be calm and at peace in order to know the truth. At first, I took that to mean living in surroundings that matched that state of mind. Keeping away from everything that seemed like the opposite of calm. Somewhere like this."

Luke walked back over to where Han was standing. "But then I started to understand that the Force doesn't work that way. It doesn't need a calm, quiet environment. It just needs me to let it speak to me without trying to push it or question it. If I allow it, I can find calm in the middle of a battleground."

"So why here then?" Han asked.

"Lots of reasons. Because it's different. Because it'd give me a new perspective, and time and space to think. Because I can train here in ways that wouldn't be possible in the crowded base. Because I need to set time aside to understand where I'm going as a Jedi, and if I stay where I am that just won't happen."

"If you explained you need time for that, they'd let you have it. They know you have other things to do and think about, apart from fighting their battles. I know Ackbar's happy to have you there on any terms."

Luke gave a quiet smile of acknowledgement. "I know. It's not about setting terms though, but about making myself stop."

"Hey – I get that. I really do," Han grinned at him. "I haven't known you all this time without noticing you rush headfirst into every problem that comes along." He gestured at the surrounding landscape. "You reckon this place'd keep you out of trouble then?"

"Maybe not all the time," Luke conceded, with a grin of his own. "Anyway, I don't want to avoid it completely. It's not like I want to leave the Alliance, or leave the base, and I don't want to live like a hermit, or be another Ben."

"But you do want to live alone," Han stated. He hadn't meant the words to sound so heavy and flat, but it was too late to do anything about that now he'd said them.

Luke stared at him for a few seconds in silence, then shook his head slowly. "No, I don't want to live alone."

"But... all the stuff you've just said... Wanting space to think..."

"Those are a part of it, but I don't need to be completely alone to do that. And the Jedi stuff isn't the only reason I want to come here. It just gives me a convenient excuse."

"You don't need an excuse. You're free to come and go – we all are. This ain't the Imperial Navy!"

"No. But if everyone just disappeared off all the time, we never've got anywhere! And I don't want the Alliance making special allowances for me. I'm here to help, and that's what I'll do. But the rest of the time..."

"You'll come here and do your Jedi thing."

"Some of the time, but it's not just about that." Luke glanced up at the blue, cloudless sky above them before looking back at Han. "It's also about things I miss. It's strange, because I never realized how much you miss things until you no longer have them. Does that sound odd to you?"

Han shook his head, wry amusement nearly making him laugh out loud. "Nah, doesn't sound odd to me," he said. "What things anyway?" Whatever they were, they'd bear no relation to Han's early morning soul-searching, and he certainly wasn't about to confess to that.

"The farm on Tatooine was very isolated, and I spent a lot of time by myself."

Han nodded, but didn't respond.

"I had Biggs of course, and a few other friends, and we'd meet up every now and again. But most of the time, I worked alone. Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen were wonderful, but they kept me pretty well guarded. And at the time I hated it. I wanted to go to the towns, spend time with friends, go off exploring."

Han shrugged. "We always want what we don't have. 'S pretty normal."

"But now I miss it," Luke explained. "I miss the solitude, and the quiet, and being able to hear every sound around me without it being drowned out by fighters taking off. And I think a part of me knew, back then, that there was something... not the same about me. I just didn't acknowledge it. I can see now, looking back, that I'd needed the quiet. It gave me balance. Evened out the part of me that wanted to fly out of there and not look back." 

"So, this place'll give you back that balance?" Han said. "Seems like a good thing to me."

"It all sounds... sort of self-indulgent," Luke admitted. "I don't mean it to be. It just feels like the right thing to do."

"You couldn't be self-indulgent if you tried," Han grinned. "You're lookin' at it from the perspective of something I'll never have to work through, and neither will anyone on the base – 'xcept for Leia – and you've gotta go with your instincts. And it ain't like you're leaving 'em to it – you said you're staying with the Alliance."

"Yes. That's why I don't want to go too far."

"_I_ wouldn't want you to go too far!" The words had come out involuntarily, and Han wishing he could take them back wasn't going to undo the flicker he'd seen in Luke's eyes.

"I hope not," Luke said, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "I sort of hoped you'd still want me to stick around."

Han sighed, wondering what had happened to his early morning determination to put things behind him. The previous night's wrong footings were coming back full-scale to torment him, and now the conversation had turned from strange to downright hazardous. "Yeah, I want you to stick around. You already know that without me sayin' it. The real question is, d'you still want _me_ to stick around?"

"I hope you also know that without me having to say it."

"Well, I don't," Han said, his tone short. "Maybe all the crap I came out with last night was the final straw!"

"There haven't been _any_ straws, let alone a final one!"

"Look – forget about straws! The fact is, you didn't wanna hear what I said, and you probably wish I hadn't said it. 'Cos it's always gonna be there between us."

"You're wrong, Han. D'you have _any idea_ how much I've wanted to hear you say those things to me? Any idea at all?"

Han stood there, baffled, his half-formed retort vanishing into silence as the meaning of Luke's words registered. He wasn't able to summon a vocal, alternative response before Luke continued.

"I've wanted you to say them for months! Longer, if I'm being honest! Everything you asked me... all the things you said you wanted... things I'd told myself never to expect... I wanted them too!"

"But why didn't you–"

"Because last night nobody was behaving normally!" Luke cut in. "We were all on a high because of Wedge! We thought we were gonna lose him, and then we didn't. A close call like that, people do some odd things – and say some odd things." Luke paced about in a circle, stepping over the raised ridges from the old quarrying channels. He threw a faintly apologetic smile at Han. "Even Hobbie was singing," he added, as though that explained everything.

"What difference does that make?" Han asked, not specifically talking about Hobbie's less than tuneful (and not very clean) renditions of Raltiiran folk songs.

"Because how was I to know you really meant it? We'd all been drinking way too much! It could have been the brandy talking! It could have been relief over Wedge! I don't know!"

"It wasn't any of those things!" Han protested, but Luke was in full flow and didn't seem to hear him.

"I'd told myself never to imagine that you might feel that way about me, and then out of the blue you start asking me to share my life with you! Telling me it's always been me, even though you'd never said anything to me before! How was I supposed to react? Go with it, only to wake up the next morning to see how much you regretted it? Or if you'd even _remember_?"

"Luke–"

"And the last thing I'd have wanted was to have you feeling sorry for me because you thought you'd hurt my feelings!"

"Luke!" Han said. "Hey, gimme a chance here?"

Luke seemed to catch himself, giving a small, rueful smile. "Go on then."

"Right." Han scrubbed again at his increasingly disheveled hair. "First off, yeah, I'd been drinking, like everyone else, but I wasn't so far gone I didn't know what I was saying! And for the record, I can remember every word I said. 'N every word you _didn't_ say."

"I would've explained things, but you hardly let me get a word in edgewise!"

Han studied him for a moment, then – despite everything – grinned at Luke with sudden amusement. Because he _hadn't_ given Luke a chance to speak. Not after Luke's obvious hesitation. He'd talked over any attempt Luke made to try and explain how he felt, because Han hadn't wanted to hear those words of rejection. He'd cut Luke off and prattled on endlessly, too many toasts to Wedge's health having let loose a barrage of words, most of it nonsensical, but all of it a coping mechanism. 

"Yeah, you're right I guess," he admitted. 

"It does happen every now and again," Luke smiled.

"Don't get carried away!" 

"It's just rare to hear you say it."

"I'm always happy to admit I'm wrong," Han said, raising his hands at Luke's skeptical expression and raised eyebrows. "Hey, I always have a good reason for everything I do."

"And the reason for not letting me speak last night was... what?"

"I guess I was tryin' to stop you sayin' what I thought you were gonna say." Han hesitated. "And I needed to say stuff to you. I'd waited long enough - even though that only just occurred to me last night too." There was a touch of self-derision in Han's words, for all the times he'd lurched through their friendship without ever letting himself acknowledge how much more he wanted.

"And just so you know, I meant every word I said," he continued. "Well, maybe not that stuff I said about Hobbie's singing. _That_ must've been the drink talking!"

"I know you meant it," Luke said, quietly. "I knew for sure this morning."

Han shook his head, puzzled all over again. "But I never said anything this morning."

"It was the Roqfruit juice that did it."

"How? If you thought I was nursing a bad head, I'd've thought you'd take it as proof I'd had too much last night. That maybe it _was_ all the drink."

"No - it was proof you don't give up. You won't admit it, and you might've told yourself you'd forget about last night, but you always fight for what feels right to you."

Han ran a hand over his jaw, still none the wiser about the conclusions Luke had drawn from what was, in Han's mind, a random choice of drink. "I don't get how me having that juice tells you that."

"Because you were making a point. If a chance came up for you to say any of those things to me again, no-one could tell you it might be down to the drink."

Han's instinctive rebuttal died in his throat, because, in all honesty, something inside him _had_ made him ask for the roqfruit juice. He'd intended to drink beer – had even requested that at the bar. Then he'd changed his mind. Whether it had been a conscious decision or not didn't really matter now. But it did raise another question in his mind.

"So, if you'd walked into the Dokk'lin and I'd been drinkin' beer, then what?"

"I'd have still known you meant it." Luke walked right up to Han, curling his fingers around Han's wrist. "It doesn't matter about any of that Han. And it doesn't matter what we said or didn't say last night."

"I guess it doesn't," Han said. "Just as long as we're okay."

"Yeah, we're okay." Luke's fingers tightened further on Han's wrist. "But you were asking me if I still wanted you to stick around, and I didn't give you a real answer."

"Oh?" Han heard the note of uncertainty that had crept into his voice."

That Luke had heard it too was obvious by the way he moved even closer to Han, and by the smile he gave that lit his eyes in the manner Han had hoped to see last night. "I want you to stick around. But I'd like it if you'd do more than just stick around."

"Like what?"

"Like sharing your life with me. Like all the things you asked me last night, and all the things you said you wanted. Like sharing this place I'm going to build here."

Somewhat lost for words, the only answer Han could summon was nonsensical. "Lotsa stone blocks lying around." The words were ridiculous, but it was a yes. A yes to everything, and a yes to the end of all his regret and all his botched attempts to find a way though the mess he'd believed he'd caused.

And Luke understood all that, because there, at last, was that full-on Luke smile. "There are," he agreed. "So we wouldn't even need to bring much building material in."

"Which is good, thinkin' about that scree slope."

"I think we can make a better access route."

"But not _too_ good. Or everyone'll start comin' here." Han leaned forward and met Luke's lips with his own. 

And that's when he made another discovery. That all the pivotal moments he'd documented up until now had been nothing in comparison to this. Because kissing Luke was life changing in a way Han could never have imagined. And there, in the press of Luke's body, and the arms that wrapped around him, Han saw the future he'd thought he'd lost. And now he knew it had always been there, waiting for the turning point to make it real. 


End file.
